Under the Rug
by mimazz
Summary: Hermione Granger is very nearly ambushed after she and Draco Malfoy are spotted arm in arm at a Ministry ball. Luckily, Draco is in a sticky spot of his own. The duo must convince Narcissa Malfoy of their undying love for one another all while watching Hermione's back for another attack. Death Eaters are scary, but a mother bent on grandchildren? That can make for a long weekend.
1. Devious

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Because, really if I did, I wouldn't be here.

This is my first story in quite a while, and so far I'm very pleased with how it's going. My intention, currently, is to update weekly and I'll try to stick to that or let you know that I'm changing things up. Without further ado...enjoy.

**Chapter 1**

**Devious**

"Oh, wear the blue one, 'Mione!" Ginny pleaded. "I know just how we could do your hair with it, and you always wear the black dress…"

Hermione Granger looked at her friend with skepticism as the younger witch rolled off the bed. Ginny plucked the dress from the closet and held it up to Hermione's front. Hermione, patience wearing thin, rolled her eyes.

"Ginny, look at this neckline. You must be insane!" Hermione collected the dress and hung it back up.

"Exactly! It's not a formal ball, they whole idea is to relax a bit. Besides, you're a beautiful, intelligent, _single_ witch. Wearing something a little less conservative wouldn't kill you and it might just fix that last bit," Ginny winked as she rifled through Hermione's shoes to find a matching pair. Hermione just threw up her hands.

"Formal or not, I can't wear this to a _Ministry_ ball!" She plunked down on the bed and while the youngest Weasley cluttered the floor around her closet with shoes and handbags.

Really, Hermione knew she was fighting a losing battle the moment Ginny's eyes lighted on the dress in question. Hermione herself rather liked it, but lacked the gall to ever seriously entertain ideas of wearing it out. The plunging neckline was enough to make the usually boisterous Gryffindor run for cover…and a sweater. Add the fact that the gown somehow managed to cling to her every curve and, well, she'd known from the beginning she would keep it hidden in her closet forever. She heaved a sigh and let her body flop back into her soft mattress.

From her spot on the floor, Ginny rolled her eyes. "What's the worst that could happen, 'Mione? It's just a dress."

"Well, I could be ruin my reputation, be deemed inappropriate, become a social leper in the office, and be let go."

Ginny stood up and turned to her friend hands on her hips.

"Hermione Granger. You are going wear this dress, you are going to have a good time, and you are going to stop worrying about it!"

Ginny stalked over to the edge of the bed. "You have until the count of three to get up and start getting dressed, or so help me…" Hermione quirked an eyebrow at the tiny replica of Molly Weasley standing at the foot of her bed.

"One."

Hermione didn't move.

"Two"

She yawned for good measure.

"Three!"

Ginny launched onto the bed and began tickling her friend, and the resulting fight nearly landed them on the floor several times. Finally, Hermione caught Ginny's hands, declaring, "Enough! Ok, I'm up, I'm going!"

Both girls were still laughing and catching their breath as Hermione hauled herself up and over to her closet.

"You'll thank me later!" the redhead called as Hermione shut the door.

Two hours later, Hermione slipped into her heels and left her bedroom. Ginny had left after finishing with Hermione's hair, _and_ after reminding her friend of what would happen if she showed up in anything other than the blue dress.

"As if I'd chance a Bat-Bogey Hex from you, Ginevra," Hermione sighed as Ginny waltzed out to get ready herself.

Hermione had lollygagged to the best of her ability, but all too soon she was ready and waiting by the floo. She double-checked her hair and makeup in the hall mirror, straightened her tiny living room, and considered making a cup of tea before she finally sighed, straightened her shoulders and grabbed a handful of floo powder. In her strongest voice, she said, "McLaggen Hall."

* * *

Draco had thought long and hard about going to the ball tonight.

On the one hand, he really needed to continue making appearances at these sorts of niceties if he was ever to been seen as equal in the public eye. On the other, he had absolutely no interest in making small talk with stuffy Ministry officials or being "seduced" by inelegant witches with nothing more than galleons on the brain. The fact that it was being held at the former Gryffindor's place only added to his displeasure. Cormac McLaggen was possibly the biggest dunderhead in the scarlet-and-golden lot. Spending an evening being pleasant to _that_ host sounded like torture.

Yet, to miss the five-year anniversary of the downfall of the world's worst excuse for a human being would not look well on him or his family. His father was on house arrest and his mother was on her yearly trip to visit all the distant relatives, helping to keep the wheels of the Malfoy name well greased.

She would thankfully be in town for the rest of the festivities. His mother was a master of social graces and small talk, and Draco found that witches were much less likely to throw themselves at him when his mother was on his arm.

He could have easily found a witch willing to escort him that night, but he did not relish the conversation sure to follow with his mother. For more than a year now, she had been dropping hints and side comments about his lack of a serious girlfriend.

"Your father and I were married at your age!"

"Aren't I ever to see my grandchildren?"

All on top of a long weekend with her, it was simply too much. And so, his best option really was to go and hope he could slip away unnoticed before too late.

Sighing with resolve, Draco Malfoy donned his formal attire and signature smirk, and tossed a handful of powder into his fireplace.

* * *

Landing as gracefully as she could, Hermione was thankful that the floo point was not visible to the party. She dusted herself off with her wand as she was greeted by a man with a tray of glasses.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," the man bowed slightly and directed her to the main hall. She thanked him and took a drink, pleased that at least with how much press she received, she was easily recognized. She had never been to McLaggen Hall, but had never relished the feeling of being looked up on a list of attendees.

Hermione took a sip of the pink liquid in her glass just before she reached the end of the hall. With one last sigh she stepped into –

"'Mione?"

Hermione turned to see Fred Weasley walking up the hall behind her. He looked handsome in his suit, yet somehow, he looked less stiff than other well-dressed men. She smiled.

"Fred! Wonderful, we can walk in together!" As glad as she was to see a friendly face, she was more than calmed to have a gentleman to walk her in, instead of walking into the lion's den alone.

Fred grinned and kissed her cheek before holding his arm out in the most over-dignified pose he could manage. Hermione chuckled and looped her arm through his.

"My, my, it has been a while since I've seen you! And it's been _quite_ a while since I've seen you in anything so dashing." Fred winked, already sensing Hermione's discomfort. She rolled her eyes.

"I'll have you know, it was your sister who forced me to into this ridiculous getup. I'll be lucky to make it through the night! Oh, Fred, I just want to hide!" Her voice petered out to a whine at the end. Fred only smiled, and moved for the door. "Hermione, I'd be no kind of brother at all if I let you hide back here all night. Just let me have the first dance before the vultures descend on you." His wink only encouraged the raging butterflies in her stomach.

* * *

Draco exited the fireplace with a kind of poise one only acquired through years of practice. He stated his name to a man with a list next to him and strolled toward the door. If he was going to make an appearance, he'd decided he would do it well.

Inside, the grand hall was lushly decorated and filled with people. In the middle of the room, witches and wizards twirled around a dance floor to a small orchestra situated at the back of the hall. He scanned the crowd as he strutted down the stairs, looking for all the world to be utterly comfortable and unimpressed.

He spotted a dark mess of hair in between two gingers near the open doors to the balcony, and so he set off, weaving through the crowd to engage in an old past time: antagonize the Golden Trio.

* * *

True to her word, Hermione let Fred lead her out onto the dance floor for her first dance almost as soon as they got into the room. She had initially wanted to keep busy until she knew Harry or Ron had arrived, but she quickly realized that Fred was lighter on his feet than she'd ever imagined. Only after five songs did the couple break for a drink.

Another mysterious glass of pink refreshment in hand, her third of the evening, Hermione tugged Fred toward the balcony in hopes of catching a breeze to cool off.

"Oi! Fred! You going to hog the girl all night?" George Weasley was suddenly at their side, a wide grin in place.

"George!" Hermione exclaimed, a little more enthusiastically than necessary. She threw her arms around him without hesitation. Both Fred and George laughed at her excitement.

"Whoa, little thing, how many of those have you had?" George asked when Hermione pulled away. She just swatted him playfully.

"I haven't had hardly any, this is only my third I'll have you know. I can't help that it's been ages since you came by the Burrow!"

Hermione's motherly tone made George laugh even more. "Alright, I'll give you that. But a bloke stays busy when he's getting engaged." Fred rolled his eyes while George winked. "That's hardly an excuse anymore. Everything's planned! You haven't even been around the shop this week." George pulled a face.

"Tell that to Angelina."

Hermione and Fred both laughed, but dropped the topic, just in case George called her over to rehash any wedding plans. Only Angelina could be as fierce when making a seating a chart as when she was chasing a Quaffle.

"Anyway," said George, "I'd better bring you over to the rest. Ginny'll kill me if I let you get away." He turned and beckoned Hermione and his twin to follow. He turned over his shoulder once before they reached Harry's side,

"You've gotta hand it to the little spaz, wouldn't you say Fred? She does a right decent job of dressing up our Hermione."

Fred only winked at Hermione's exasperated eye roll before he snuck away to scare his youngest brother.

"You look fantastic!" Harry proclaimed, pulling Hermione into a hug.

"You look awfully nice yourself, Mr. Potter. Looks like I'm not the only one Ginny dressed this evening." Hermione said, poking Harry's side lightly. Harry nodded and chuckled.

"It's much easier to let her have her way, sometimes, isn't it?"

"Excuse me! I'll have you know, you both look splendid and have me to thank for it!" cried a smug Ginny Weasley. She slipped an arm around Harry's waist and kissed his cheek. "Besides, imagine what they'd say if the Boy-Who-Lived showed up looking like he didn't own a mirror." At that, both girls laughed, having witnessed the dangers of letting Harry Potter dress himself.

"Oh, alright," Harry pretended to huff. All three turned as a yelp erupted another of the redheaded clan. A few feet away, Fred and finally surprised Ron, and the two were roughhousing as delicately as possible. Thankfully, the few people near them cleared out quickly. Harry turned back to Hermione, "Who did you come with, 'Mione?"

"No one, it's so much easier that way," the witch explained, "if I show up with someone, then I spend the whole night explaining to everyone how I'm _not_ dating them, and the prophet still runs a picture of me dancing with Ron, and a piece on how there's trouble in paradise!" Harry knew Hermione wasn't exaggerating. Shortly after the Ministry had started holding different balls that he, Ron, and Hermione all felt obligated to attend, the situation she described actually arose.

Poor Lee Jordan, who had truly only come with Hermione as a friend, had endured several interviews afterward denying that his heart had been broken by "the Gryffindor vixen." It was all a mess too great for Hermione's reclusive nature.

However, Harry hated the thought of Hermione going home every night to a lonely apartment. He had hoped she would have brought a date, due to the lengthy celebrations they would endure this weekend. Harry wasn't sure how _he_ would get through if not for Ginny to balance him out and poke fun at the more "traditionally" dressed Ministry members. Sorry as his fashion sense may be, even Harry could tell that frilly dress robes were well past their time.

As if she could see the wheels turning in her friend's head, Hermione smiled and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Don't go worrying about me, Harry. Put your hero complex to rest for the night, I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself." Harry smiled and nodded. "Besides, if I get bored, I'll just steal Ginny away."

She and Ginny laughed at Harry's stricken expression.

"Alright, no need for threats," Harry turned to his girlfriend, "I believe it's time I took you out on the dance floor." Ginny's grin stretched from ear to ear as Hermione watched the pair disappear into the crowd.

Hermione turned back to the group to see that Fred and Ron had calmed down. As she approached, she overheard Fred telling Ron about a new line of products he and George had just released.

"It's a bit like a love potion, except we've modified it to only really work on people who already like each other," Fred explained. Ron looked uneasy, having never forgotten his run-in with Romilda Vane's love potion spiked chocolates.

"Instead of fixing them so the victim falls in love with anyone in particular, once they eat it, they act a bit like a love sick teenager. It doesn't create an infatuation so much as it makes a person more affectionate," Fred smirked, "Cuddly, if you will." Hermione stepped up with doubt written clearly on her face, "You might be better off not referring to those using your products as _victims_, Fred."

Fred chortled while Ron nodded and turned to Hermione. The discomfort that had weighted his features suddenly lifted when he took stock of his friend.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Ron cried, his eyes going wide. Whatever chemistry the pair had felt in school had dissipated as they grew older, and now they were nothing more than friends. However, Ron was still male, and he was having a hard time looking away from his very well dressed friend.

Hermione was torn between laughing and being annoyed at the absolute bewilderment on Ron's face.

"Ronald, put your eyes back in your head for goodness sake. Has it really escaped your attention that I'm a girl, after all this time?" Hermione's tone was enough to make Ron regain his composure and smile sheepishly at his friend.

"Oh, you know what I mean. You look great, 'Mione," Ron responded. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. Hermione sighed good-naturedly and returned his hug. As he released her, she turned to Fred.

"Perhaps you could come up with something that encouraged thick headed men to say the right thing." She grinned at him as Ron huffed.

"Aw, where would the fun in that be? Plus, this way, I get a better shot at all the ladies my little brother sends running." Fred wound his arm around Hermione's waist again and the pair laughed as Ron threw up his hands and cried, "Blimey, enough already. What else is new in the shop?"

Fred started back in on their newest inventions, just as the most devious of Weasleys sauntered up behind them.

* * *

Just as Draco made his way into a clearing, he spotted Potter and the youngest Weasley heading on to the dance floor only a few feet away. Though they wouldn't exactly be considered bosom buddies, he and Potter worked together and it had set them into an easy friendship. As it turned out, they were both quick witted and convicted. It made working on the same squad of Aurors very easy. While Ron had taken a while to come around, he too had eventually come to an understanding with the young Malfoy.

Harry caught a glimpse of familiar blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Draco. He nodded and then whispered in Ginny's ear, who turned around and began leading them over to their friend.

"Evening, Potter," Draco said lazily. No matter how close the two were, he imagined first names would never feel quite right.

"Malfoy," Harry nodded, "had a good week off?" Due to lull in dark activity and the upcoming events, Harry and Draco's squad had been one of several given the week off.

"It's been quiet. Mother's been out making rounds to the relatives, which I will say has been a nice reprieve." The eyebrow Draco contemptuously raised in an unintentional display of emotion reminded Harry of the stories of Draco's grandchild-crazed mother. He smiled and nodded at Draco in understanding.

"I don't see your date anywhere, Draco," Ginny noted with a coy smile. Both Harry and Draco were instantly on the alarm – Draco wasn't the only one who brought stories of crazed women to work.

"Nice to see you, too, Weaslette," Draco drawled, trying to replace his bored mask. Ginny only waved off the long-standing nickname.

"Come now, you're already hiding? Is this one really that awful?" Ginny asked mildly, sipping her drink. Draco sighed and resigned himself to whatever game the girl was playing.

"I came alone. With my mother coming back so soon, I'm sure you can imagine the fiasco of finding a date only to tell her to disappear after one night. Simply easier than battling you witches and your overwhelming attraction to me," He studied his nails, seemingly unaffected by admitting he was dateless.

Ginny only barely kept from clapping her hands in excitement! However, used to playing these games with Malfoy, she did her best to keep her face blank and uninterested. It almost worked, but Draco saw the telltale flash of triumph in her eyes.

The look was not missed on Harry either, who decided to intervene on his friend's behalf.

"Oh, look, Gin, they're just starting up another song! Malfoy," Harry nodded quickly and started towing away his girlfriend.

"Harry Potter! You wouldn't think of leaving Draco here alone while we went to dance! Here, Draco, come with me – I'm sure Ron or George are still around here somewhere." Too late did Harry realize what Ginny was up to. He let his head drop for a moment, defeated, before patting Draco on the shoulder and motioning for him to follow.

Draco knew his options were limited at best and so he followed his friend, the boy wonder, and the fiery redhead that they both knew better than to cross.

AN: Well friends, there you have it! I would absolutely love some feedback, so leave a review! Hope to see you next week.


	2. Blindsided

Disclaimer: Short of this mug of tea steaming away and keeping me company, I own nothing.

_When asked would Lockhart ever recover, J.K. replied, "No. Nor would I want him to. He's happy where he is, and I'm happier without him!" _

**Chapter 2**

**Blindsided**

"Ron, oh good, here you are! You'll never guess who we found," Ginny cried from just behind his shoulder. Ron spun to look bewilderedly at his sister.

"Well, yeah, was I going - ?" He was cut off as she clapped her hands and she turned to see Harry and Draco standing a few feet back. Harry was smiling sheepishly at his ambushed friends while Draco seemed rather interested, or possibly annoyed, with his shoes.

"Come, come boys, they won't bite!" Ginny rushed back and pulled both men forward by their jackets. Draco rolled his eyes, but straightened and extended his hand to Ron, and then Fred.

"Good evening, Weasley. Weasley."

Ginny wasn't paying the least bit of attention, her head whipped left and right, clearly confused. Fred smiled as her suspicious eyes fell on him.

"Where's Hermione?" she asked Fred in a very stern voice. He chuckled and gestured to the dance floor.

"We let her out of our sight for one minute, and ole' Quin asks her for a dance."

Ginny's lips set in a thin line. _Honestly, these simpletons had one job!_

Through a gap in the crowd, the small group could just see old Mr. Quin trampling Hermione's toes. The elderly man apologized profusely, would keep his eyes trained on his feet for a few moments as if to keep them in pace, then would become distracted – Ginny noticed with satisfaction – by Hermione's exposed décolletage. Of course, as a gentleman, Mr. Quin would quickly right his gaze on Hermione's face for a moment before stepping on a toes once more, starting the whole process over.

Draco shared an amused look with the rest of the boys as he watched the old man ogle Granger. Fred had tears of suppressed laughter in the corner of his eyes, Harry was fighting a losing battle with the grin about to break free, and Ron coughed to try to hide his chuckles. The couple shuffled painfully out of sight, and the boys calmed. Ginny looked pensive and her eldest brother quickly pieced together her dismay at Hermione's disappearance and Harry and Malfoy's relief.

Always quick on his feet, Fred clapped Draco on the back. "Been a while, Malfoy! I hear stories of course," he winked, "but I've yet to see you pop into the shop. You'll have to come visit sometime, I'm sure we have something to pique your interest. We never expected that Slytherins would appreciate our products they way they do, but you lot have surprised us," Fred smoothly pulled the blond haired man into the circle while boxing out his distracted sister.

Of course, a girl doesn't grow up under the founders of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes without becoming a bit manipulative herself. Slipping between Ron and Harry, Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Fred, do you talk about anything other than work? Our dearest friend is being manhandled on the dance floor and all you can think of is your newest Skiving Snackboxes," Ginny huffed.

"Well, if _she_ had a fainting fancy on her, she wouldn't be in this mess would she?" Fred said, in mock offence, his nose in the air. He leaned conspiratorially over to Draco, "Hermione's never been our biggest customer. Imagine our heartache at being ignored by our own little sister," Ginny looked at him in confusion, "well, our other little sister."

Draco chuckled, amused but unaccustomed to Fred's boldness and the general closeness these Gryffindors enjoyed. Slytherins were much more invested in their personal space. They chatted a few minutes more before Harry finally took pity on his increasingly distressed girlfriend.

"Alright, I think she's suffered enough. Draco, why don't you take Hermione off Quin's hands?"

Ginny beamed up at the dark haired man and kissed his cheek. Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. Fred slapped him on the back yet again.

"I'll warn you, I've set the bar pretty high! I got her to dance with me first thing tonight," he said. As he made his way to the dance floor, Draco smirked at the red head over his shoulder.

"Oh, I'll try not to steal her away from you," he called dryly.

"Bring it Malfoy!"

* * *

Hermione was plotting of the various evils she would rain down in the Weasley household for this torture. First, on Ginny, for forcing her into this salacious dress, and then leaving her. Next, on Ron and Fred who had watched old Mr. Quin petition her to for a dance, but had never come to her rescue.

Hermione had been chatting with the boys when a friend from her department had passed by. The two had said hello and made small talk before the girl was called away by her date. Before she could rejoin the Weasleys, Mr. Quin, an old Ministry benefactor and well known by most Aurors, had sidled up. He was a nice old man, but he certainly getting on in years. He proved as much with his small, stiff steps, and inability to concentrate on the dance while making small talk with his partner. It also didn't help that he was several inches shorter than Hermione, placing his face at neck level…and rather closer to her plunging neckline than Hermione cared for.

The witch winced again as her toes were once more abused when Mr. Quin spoke.

"How's a pretty thing like you not married off yet? In my day, why, you'd be an old maid!" Mr. Quin chortled. "Of course, I know, times change. But my sister, she had a child by your age, I'm quite sure."

Hermione blanched, not at all expecting this turn in the conversation. She was saved a reply when a most unlikely hero tapped Mr. Quin on his shoulder. Draco Malfoy smiled down at the old man, then winked at Hermione, as if they shared some kind of secret.

"May I cut in?" Draco asked, extending his hand to the pair. Mr. Quin smiled and nodded gallantly. He offered Hermione's hand to Draco, and she could have sworn she heard him mumble, "About time," as he walked away.

Hermione sighed in relief as Draco took his place, then chuckled to herself.

"Imagine if I told my younger self I was relieved to dance with you. Oh, I'd think I was crazy."

Draco smirked, indeed, his younger self would never have offered to dance with Hermione Granger. Glad that Hermione's relief outweighed any awkward tension about her new partner, Draco spoke up.

"Well, it looked as though your toes needed a rest, and frankly, this was the best way to get that red-headed marm of Potter's to let me alone."

Hermione groaned. Apparently, Ginny wasn't satisfied by meddling with her wardrobe alone. _Why is everyone so concerned with my love life tonight?_

"Let's stay out here a bit longer, and then we'll find somewhere to hide from her" Hermione's face lit up at Malfoy's suggestion. She loved the idea of hiding from her determined friend…and she wasn't complaining about Malfoy's dancing either. Especially compared to her previous partner.

Draco swept them around the room gracefully, glad to see that despite the assault on Granger's feet, she was a splendid dance partner. They shared a kind of lightness in their movements that Draco had found lacking in most women. He was slightly surprised to find himself leading her without resistance – he had expected Granger to be as strong willed and outspoken in her dancing as she was in everything else.

"Well," Hermione said, "I suppose we should make small talk. She'll show up if she thinks we're not trying, you know." Draco nodded, raising an eyebrow at the thought of the youngest Weasley.

"Here with anyone tonight, Granger?"

The easy friendship that had grown between Harry, Ron, and Malfoy had not quite reached Hermione. While she was happy to be civil, and found the current Malfoy much improved over his schoolyard self, their time together was rather limited. Frankly, Hermione rarely thought of the Malfoy heir.

"Oh, no, no. It's far too complicated to bring anyone to these things, don't you think?" she replied vehemently.

Draco had, of course, heard about the fiasco with Lee Jordan. Aside from the Prophet, he worked with her two best mates. In school, Draco had been under the impression Hermione just kept the dunder-twins in line and up to snuff in their classes. It never occurred to him that their relationship might be deeper and more sibling like. At work, Draco had quickly learned that when something happened to one of the trio, the other two felt it.

So, whenever Granger got herself into a mess, or the Prophet did it for her, his co-workers turned into huffy, oversensitive big-brothers. The most obnoxious part of the whole deal had been the realization that he sided with Harry and Ron, and by the end of the week, and he was even feeling a bit wounded himself on her behalf.

Of course, he would never tell her, or anyone else, that.

"Yes, I daresay I know the feeling," he said, thinking of his meddling mother. "I've opted for the easy road this time, too."

Draco looked over her brunette head, wondering where Potter and his girlfriend had gotten off to, and which way he and Granger should make their escape. He noticed several men watching them over their drinks, some looking impatient, others curious, and a few just a touch appalled. Even five years after the war, and the downfall of He-Who-Destroyed-the-Wizarding-Community, some were set in their bigoted ways.

Hermione noticed his distraction.

"What are you looking at?"

"It seems I wasn't the only man here thinking about interrupting old Quin. I was just the first one to do it," Draco smirked down at her. He chuckled at her baffled expression.

"Don't look now, but there are several gentlemen watching us on the edge of the dance floor." Hermione surreptitiously glanced around as Malfoy twirled them around the room. She too noticed the great and varied interest in her and Malfoy. She also noticed that none of the men looked like pleasant dance partners. Hermione shifted the tiniest bit closer to Malfoy.

"Promise that when we stop, we'll really try to hide," she whispered. "I don't like the looks we're getting at all."

"Where's that Gryffindor courage?" Draco teased. Granger's glare would have crumpled a weaker man.

"Oh, alright, I give you my word; I won't let anyone else sweep you off to the dance floor tonight."

Hermione relaxed, and smiled her thanks. They were nearing the end of the song, and Hermione was grateful for it. Her energy was fading rapidly and her feet were becoming a mite clumsier. Malfoy seemed to notice, he had slowed their steps and was drifting toward the edge of the floor.

The couple barely parted when the song was over, Draco only readjusting to follow Hermione closely off the floor. He probably shouldn't have given Granger his _word_ to ward off suitors for the rest of the night, but he had. Plus, if he was busy fending off men from her, it might keep the slightly more intoxicated women from finding their courage.

Draco led the petite witch to the bar, where they eagerly grabbed refreshments. Draco surveyed the room discreetly. He loathed this hour of balls, when guests had just a bit too much to drink and were starting to forget themselves. He was a great advocate of manners, after all, and hated to see men and women of such high class embarrass themselves as such. As if on cue, a woman to his left shrieked in shrill laughter at something another, equally loud woman was saying. Both looked flushed and sleepy, clearly needing to call it a night.

Hermione picked up another pink drink from a platter resting on the table. She looked but did not see a name for the drink. She rather liked it; it had a sweet, light taste, and didn't taste of alcohol at all. Still, she knew better than to have too many, this was her fourth of the tiny drinks and it would be her last. Hermione jumped, her train of thought broken, when a nearby woman shrieked a little too loudly.

Granger's start drew Draco's attention back to her. Thankfully, Granger knew how to hold herself in public, not getting sloshed like so many women here, several of whom had been brought up on these kinds of events, as Draco had been himself. He internally scoffed for the millionth time at the idea of blood purity. What he had so staunchly believed growing up was disproven in front of him nearly every day.

Draco began leading her through the crowd, out to the balcony, an area that was less visible and less crowded. He kept a hand on the small of her back and stayed close to her, sending the very clear message that Hermione Granger was off the menu tonight. They were almost out of the room when Potter spotted them.

He trotted quickly over to the pair, looking rather bothered.

"Hermione, how are you feeling?" Harry asked, concern etched deeply in his face. Hermione looked at him, puzzled.

"I'm fine, a bit tired. What's happened?"

"Ginny, she's not had much to drink, but she's absolutely pissed. I don't know what happened!" Harry ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even more.

"Don't worry, I sure she just lost track. It can't be that bad, did she do anything embarrassing?"

"No, we got her out of here, back to a room near the fireplaces. I wanted to come back and check on you before we left. Do you think you'll be alright to get home?" Harry was jumpy and clearly eager to get back to Ginny. Hermione giggled at his distress.

"Harry Potter. I told you earlier. Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself." Of course, the hiccup that followed didn't exactly strengthen to her lecture. Draco stepped in, as Harry looked more torn than ever.

"Don't worry about it, Potter, I'm already playing bodyguard for the night, I'll make sure she gets home safely." Harry nodded at Draco gratefully, pulled Hermione into a quick hug, and kissed the top of her head before nearly jogging to the exit. Hermione looked after him, still perplexed.

"I can't imagine why he's so worried over Ginny. I'm sure she just had a bit too much, she'll be right as rain in the morning," Hermione muttered turning back to Malfoy. He shrugged.

"Probably thinks somebody slipped her something. It would explain why he was so worried over you."

The brunette nodded and her shoulders sagged the tiniest bit.

"We just weren't expecting an ambush tonight," she said forlornly.

"Didn't that dodgy old Auror used to say something about that sort of attitude?" Draco smirked.

Hermione yet again burst into giggles.

"Constant vigilance!" she roared. Draco watched in amusement. The look on his face only made her laugh harder. She sounded more like herself when she spoke again, after she calmed down.

"Well, I wasn't planning on staying too late, but I guess I shouldn't take off so soon after Harry…they get very distressed if they think we aren't committed to these things. Imagine, Harry Potter not taking the war seriously." Hermione threw her hands up as she spoke.

Draco watched her carefully. It was hard to tell, as he didn't know her well, but Granger did seem a bit off. To the best of his knowledge, she was the most adept of the golden trio when it came to social graces, reserving her passionate lectures for appropriate, often private times. Also, her moods seemed out of character tonight. Looking back, she hadn't even teased him when he'd given her his word. He had at least expected those honey colored eyes to roll at the formality of the gesture. He watched as Granger sipped at the drink in her hand, then he looked around. Of course, most of the men had passed on such a feminine looking drink, but it was a hit with the women. Every woman he saw had one in hand, and most looked tipsy at best.

Hermione had almost finished off the glass when Malfoy snatched it out of her hand.

"Hey!" she protested loudly. Malfoy, however, was closely examining her flute and the pink swallow left at the bottom. He carefully sniffed it and took a tiny sip. Malfoy's brow wrinkled as he tried to place the familiar liquid, before realization slapped him across the face.

As Malfoy collected her and towed her back in the direction the bar, Hermione though she had scarcely seen him so angry since they were children.

* * *

Half an hour later, after finding and interrogating a waiter, Draco had proven himself correct. Though he liked being right, Draco was furious with whomever had put together these refreshments.

How anyone could condone the use of such a drink at Ministry function, one based on _equality_, no less was absolutely beyond him! The whole affair sent them back decades in terms of the treatment of women. He would personally track down the idiot event planner who had signed off on the menu. Come Monday, heads would roll.

Hermione was quickly losing her clear-headedness, missing most of the interrogation and watching the room around her instead. Outfits and hairstyles that had only seemed exaggerated when she arrived now sent her into fits of giggles.

Draco looked down at the tittering Granger. He was grateful that she wasn't a loud, obnoxious drunk, or at least, she wasn't yet. He felt eyes on his back and looked up to notice several men leering in his direction. As he led her away, he mused that in the absence of Granger's normal, no nonsense attitude, the fact that he was hogging her tonight was even more obnoxious to the less-than-gentlemen eyeing her up.

"Granger, why don't we dance a bit more, and then we'll get you home?" he suggested, whispering in her ear to deter some of the pluckier looking men.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, we're not in third year anymore. My name's Hermione," she spluttered exasperatedly. Draco frowned at the light slur in her speech. Thankfully, dancing made them much less likely to be interrupted. He didn't want anyone else to realize just how quickly Granger was slipping.

"Alright, Hermione," he said as they reached the dance floor, "just a few dances, I'll go slow, don't worry."

"Draco, I'm fine," she brushed his worries off. "What was that, anyway? You don't seem pleased with it."

Draco blinked, certain that was the first time she'd ever called him by his given name, but answered her question.

"It's an old drink," he began, "a concoction served to women back when they were more breeding mares than anything else. A lady would sip one throughout the night - as you can tell, it works pretty fast, but it's tampered with. Ideally, it'll turn any woman into a simpering moron without getting too upset or too wild." Draco sneered. "It's supposed to be cute."

Hermione looked as disgusted as Draco felt.

"That's just…repulsive!" she whispered, hoping to keep quiet and out of the limelight, armed with the knowledge that the evil, blush drink would be catching up with her soon.

"I quite agree. I'll be seeking out whoever had the clever idea to serve it tonight."

Hermione looked worried. She felt like a ticking time bomb, and as she watched the other women in the room making fools of themselves, hanging on the men around them, she felt even more perturbed. Draco could read every thought that passed through her mind, because it passed over her face too.

"Relax. I told Potter I'd get you home, and I will." Hermione nodded, the conviction in Draco's voice easing some of her worry.

"Just don't let me make a right arse of myself…it seems to be the theme of the party." Draco laughed.

"I'll do my best."

Hermione's feet were becoming increasingly clumsy as they danced. Draco pulled her closer, into tighter stance that gave her little room to move, and therefore little room to trip. She stiffened slightly as his arm wound around her waist, then remembered it would deter would-be-dance partners if they appeared to be a couple. She laid her head on his chest, and rested her arm fully on his shoulder.

Draco fought the urge to freeze and separate from the dance. He reminded himself that his two co-workers were often seen in much more intimate embraces with the witch he held, and they were completely platonic. Another, slower song started up. Feeling awkward holding the Gryffindor so closely, he whispered in her ear that was only a few inches from his chin.

"Let's finish this song, and then we'll leave." He felt more than saw Hermione nod.

"Don't go falling asleep on me! Someone's bound to notice if I carry you out of here, Granger." She huffed, but he could tell she was slightly more determined to stay awake.

Against Draco's chest, Hermione let her mind wander. For being off her game, Hermione felt she should get a pat on the back for her dancing skills. She and Draco had been outshining other couples on the floor all night. Draco was a fabulous dancer, much to her surprise. She had never pictured him doing something as intimate and frivolous as dancing. Of course, she rarely saw him fail, either, and found herself unable to imagine him as a poor dancer. She also realized she was thinking entirely too much about the man sweeping her around the room and vowed to think of other things.

"I didn't even think to have my floo connected late. I just assumed I would apparate back," Hermione said, breaking their silence. Draco's chest vibrated as he chuckled.

"I wouldn't suggest that. It'd be a lot simpler to stay with someone than to reattach you arm." Hermione looked stricken at the idea.

"Don't worry," Draco found himself reassuring her again, "I won't let you splinch anything." Draco wondered at his instinctive comforting of this girl he'd hardly kept a conversation with before tonight. He cast a look around once more, noting that the crowd had thinned some, but not so much that his and Hermione's disappearance would be noticed.

Draco frowned as he thought about what he had just promised Hermione. If her floo was closed, she didn't have a way to get back home. He had never been to her home, and so he couldn't apparate them there. Potter and Weasley had already left, but maybe there would be another ginger headed mate of Hermione's to take her back to the Burrow.

As the song came to a close, Draco finally led Hermione off the floor. One lap around the room, he decided, and if they didn't find someone with red hair, she would just come back and sleep in the guest room in his apartment. He separated from the witch, glad to have his own space back. Her light breath on his neck was distracting.

He and Hermione started around the room. Hermione almost thought to remind Draco that the fireplaces were the other way, but thought better of it, assuming he had a plan in mind. He certainly moved with a purpose, allowing Hermione to trail behind him with her hand in his.

They made it almost entirely around the room before…

"Drakie!"

The hair on the back of Draco's neck stood up.

Pansy Parkinson, bedecked in what she must have considered her finest, waved frantically at him. He nodded and changed his course to meet her. The heavy fur wrap on her shoulders, added to the jewel-encrusted bracelets and rings all looked heavy enough to keep her arms at her side all night, and though he had been friends with her throughout school, Draco still marveled at her truly-Pansy sense of style.

Pansy held a flute of the rose drink in her hand, and by the looks of her askew tiara and ruddy cheeks, it was not her first.

"Oh, Drakie! I haven't seen you at all tonight! Where have you been hiding?" she asked just a bit too loudly, and with a flirtatious twinkle in her eye. As if on cue, Hermione stepped around him and smiled at Pansy. Pansy did not smile back.

"What's this?!" the Slytherin screeched, "I heard you came alone!" Pansy surveyed her "competition" with her lips in a pout. Hermione was thoroughly shocked, not at all expecting to be yelled at. Hermione retreated to a safe distance, placing herself halfway behind Draco. She turned to him to clasp his hand in both of hers.

"Can we go now? I'm terribly sleepy." Hermione implored, looking up at Draco. For the first time, Draco appreciated just how tiny she was. She may as well have been looking at the ceiling for how far she had to tilt her chin to look at him. Resting her head against his arm, with that innocent, sleepy expression on her face, she looked rather like a child. In that moment, it was easy to see why Potter and Weasley were so protective of her, despite the fact that she was a grown woman and the brightest witch of their year.

It was impossible to say no, even though they hadn't found one of the Weasley clan. Not to mention, as a bonus he could say _yes_, in front of Pansy.

Draco, very aware that Pansy was watching him like a hawk, nodded at Hermione. The little brunette perked up and released her grip on his hand. Draco nodded again, this time to Pansy, whose jaw was currently sweeping the floor.

"I think it's time we called it a night, Pans. We'll have to catch up another time," Draco grinned suggestively at his old friend. He and Hermione left an indignant Pansy seething as they headed for the floo. He knew it was unfair to use Hermione's loose use of words against Pansy, but on the other hand, he likely just bought himself a Pansy-harassment free holiday!

As they had decided to leave well before the majority of the guests, the path the floo point was mostly clear. Draco had almost reached the hallway when he heard a male voice call, "Hermione!"

Draco forced himself to be on his best behavior when he turned to see their host dashing up to them.

_Cormac McLaggen…and just when we were so close._

Hermione smiled politely at Cormac, not letting go of Draco's hand.

"Cormac, how are you?" Hermione forced out. She did her best to appear pleased to see her old classmate, but really, she had dearly hoped she could avoid him tonight. The blowhard still didn't understand that she was not now and would not anytime in the future be mooning over him. However, her cold greeting was lost on him.

Cormac grinned confidently and scooped up Hermione's free hand to place a kiss on the back. In true Cormac fashion, he lingered longer than necessary.

Draco, feeling Hermione tense next to him and having already twisted their situation for his own gain, stepped up to be slightly in front of her once her hand was free. Cormac puffed his chest and surveyed Draco through narrowed eyes, as if only now noticing him. Draco smiled coldly.

"Lovely ball, Cormac," Draco compliment, "It's a shame we have to run off so early, but someone seems to have overlooked a few details concerning the menu."

Cormac looked taken aback.

"I've yet to hear any complaints," he blustered importantly.

"I doubt you would from most," Draco's voice took on an aloof, condescending tone that Hermione had been on the receiving end of for many years.

"However, I personally am not so comfortable tricking guests with potions designed to give any man an advantage over his date." Even in Hermione's clumsy state, she could appreciate Cormac's likeness to a tomato.

"Really?" Cormac crowed, moving to place a hand on Hermione's back.

"You seem pretty eager to get out of here with Miss Granger. Don't suppose you mind 'taking advantage' of her?" He turned to the witch in question.

"Why don't you stay here tonight, love? There's plenty of rooms upstairs."

In her more-than-tipsy state, Hermione started to consider his proposal…after all, upstairs was a lot closer than her own bed…and hadn't she realized earlier that she wouldn't be able to get back to her bed? Thankfully, Draco noticed the nasty gleam in Cormac's less-than-trustworthy eyes.

"I'm just taking her back to her flat, McLaggen. I think we both know what would happen to anyone who tried to force themselves on _Miss Granger_," he drawled with a knowing smirk.

Not entirely sure what Malfoy was on about, but recognizing that he was being insulted, Cormac stepped closer, putting his chest right up to Malfoy's slightly taller one. Draco released Hermione's hand and discreetly directed her away, resting his hand near his hip, just above his wand.

"I don't think I like letting a fellow Gryffindor be taken away by Slytherin scum like you, Malfoy."

The two were nose to nose, and Draco could smell the alcohol on his breath and see his slightly bloodshot eyes. Withholding a withering sigh at the tactlessness of getting smashed at his own ball, Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you once more, McLaggen, then you'll force -"

"What?! Malfoy! Force you to do what?1" Cormac cried, his arms flailing, making a scene. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about the drink in his hand, and had flung the remainder of its contents onto Hermione's gown.

Hermione yelped as the cool liquid surprised her, splashing across her chest and down the bodice of her dress. By now, several guests from the ballroom had taken notice. Hermione looked at her dress, and then back at Cormac.

Cormac was browbeaten by the fire in Hermione's eyes. He backed down finally, noticing they had an audience and he was not likely to win this one. Draco watched with barely concealed delight as Hermione slowly stepped forward, continuing to glare angrily at Cormac, who, for his part, was all but cowering in front of the clearly enraged witch.

"This is my favorite dress, McLaggen." Hermione's voice held a level of malice that Draco felt quite sure had been reserved for him until that day.

"You will return to your party, you will not say another word about how I am to get home, and you will apologize for your impertinence."

McLaggen mumbled an apology to the hem of Hermione's dress.

"No, not to me," her tone told him exactly what kind of moron she thought he was.

"Apologize to Draco."

McLaggen looked up at her for a moment, staggered, but finally acquiesced, nodding to Draco before dropping his gaze again and mumbling and even quieter apology. Draco beamed.

"Quite alright, old chap. Maybe you've had enough fun for tonight. Time to turn in!" he said, loud enough for the few guests still watching to hear. Draco winked at the defeated McLaggen and grinned at Hermione.

"Ready?" Draco asked Hermione, who looked rather smug. He held out his arm to her.

"Quite." Hermione took his arm and the two stalked down the hall, making it behind the closed door before Hermione stumbled and both broke into peals of laughter.

* * *

AN: *dodges various items being thrown*

I'm so very sorry for promising a quick update, I _sincerely_ thought I would have had this chapter finished soon after I posted the first. I know. I won't do it again, I SWEAR.

As always, I appreciate reviews. Please, if there's anything I could improve let me know. If you feel there are any discrepancies in the characters, any holes in their back-story that I need to be filling let me know. In some cases, I can tell you I'm leaving information for later, as I despise getting a short recap of the characters' lives in the first few chapters. It takes me out of the story, and personally, I lose interest.

Ta ta for now, dear readers!


	3. Caught

Disclaimer: Bought a new pair of boots recently...other than that, I still own nothing.

"_What exactly is the function of a rubber duck?" – Arthur Weasley_

**Chapter 3**

**Caught**

Hermione's head continued to spin, even after she dusted the soot from her front. She tried to look around and take in the unfamiliar room, but she lost her balance and swayed backwards. Thankfully, Draco was keeping a close eye on her and steadied her shoulders.

"Whoa, you little lush," Draco sniggered. He righted Hermione and walked her to the sofa.

"You well know I'm not a lush!" Hermione crowed, still trying to get her bearings. "All from a stupid, hedonistic potion...will you please tell the walls to be still?"

Hermione slumped to the side and buried her face in a pillow. Draco shook his head, crooking an eyebrow at the back of the witch's head. Only Hermione Granger would have such an expansive, drunken vocabulary.

"Where are we, anyway?" Hermione sat up slowly, unable to shake the dizziness. She considered the room around her.

She was sitting on a decidedly comfortable couch near the fireplace they had just exited. Aside from the fire, the room was unlit. The mantle held a couple of books, an ornate dish of floo powder, and a picture whose occupants must have already fallen asleep. At the other end of the room, Hermione saw two openings, both too dark to see where they led. Draco was reclining in a wingback chair opposite her, on the other side of the fireplace, watching her peruse the room.

"My flat, Granger," he drawled, unsure of how she would react. Fortunately, she just nodded. Draco couldn't be sure which part of her was so accepting of the two of them sleeping under the same roof – the reasonable Hermione who knew it was a far better alternative than McLaggen's offer, or the sloshed, childlike Hermione who had so willingly cuddled up to him in front of Pansy. Trying to meld the two women together was giving him a headache.

He was brought back to the room when the witch in question began nodding off. Draco stood, deciding it was time to go to bed.

"Well, follow me. The guest room is just around the corner." Hermione pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly and followed the blonde out of the room and down the hall. He opened a door and flicked on the light.

"Bathroom's just across the hall," he inspected her for a moment as she flopped down on the foot of the large bed in the center of the room.

"There's Pepperup Potion in the cabinet," he added with a smirk. "Need anything else, Granger?"

Hermione looked tiredly up at him and blinked a few times before she blushed.

"Could I...um, borrow a shirt?" she gestured to her long skirts, looking anywhere but at him. Draco chuckled before directing her to the wardrobe. She kicked off her shoes before walking over and quickly plucking a shirt from its hanger.

"Just across the hall?" Draco nodded, biting back a smirk at her clear discomfort. "I'll just go change then."

"Right. I'll just sort out these papers."

Hermione ducked out of the room and Draco finally allowed himself a smile at the small witch. He would never have expected Hermione Granger, a girl who spent a large part of the war living in a tent with her two male friends, to be so shy or proper.

Still musing over the Gryffindor, Draco collected the stacks parchment and files from the desk beneath the windows and slipped them into drawers. As a bit of an overachiever, Draco often took work home with him, even low profile cases like the ones he held now. He didn't think Granger was the type to snoop, but she was also a notorious bookworm, and leaving his desk covered in confidential files would be asking for trouble.

With the files tucked safely under his arm, Draco exited the room, only to find the loo door wide open. He turned and poked his head back into the living room. He found a sleeping Granger on the couch, her dress tossed over the chair. After briefly debating on waking her, or even carrying her to the guest room, Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed a blanket off the foot of the guest bed.

In his finally act of kindness for the night, he draped the blanket across the sleeping witch and stalked to his room. Draco suppressed the nigging feeling in the back of his head and resolved to spend more time with his old, cold hearted house-mates.

He wasn't turning into a bloody Hufflepuff tonight, no. She'd be fine on the couch.

* * *

A high pitched, irritating chirping woke Hermione the next morning.

She moaned and buried her head into her pillow, willing the bird to go away. Of course, it kept right on, chirping and singing just outside the damn window. Hermione contemplated various spells that would end the rude noise, but was quickly distracted by the intense pounding in her head. Slowly, she sat up and opened her eyes, thankful that her room was dimly lit this morning. She closed her eyes again and massaged her temples.

Then her eyes snapped open. Her room was dimly lit because she wasn't in her room. Memories flooded her brain and joined in the unwelcome drumming against her skull.

She was on Draco Malfoy's couch, in his living room. Hell, she was wearing his shirt! Hermione rubbed her face once, before she hoisted herself off the couch. At very least, she remembered Malfoy had mentioned she could find Pepperup Potion in the bathroom. She wrapped her blanket around her shoulders to fend off the morning chill, and was halfway to the loo before she realized she'd fallen asleep without any blanket.

_Great. One more thing I owe Malfoy for._

She tip-toed down the hall and opened the cabinet door as quietly as she could. She tossed the blanket to the side and uncorked the little bottle.

After a gulp of the minty potion, she splashed some water on her face pressed her fingers into her forehead, waiting for the thudding receded. With a sigh of relief, Hermione opened her eyes to assess the tangled mess she knew waited atop her head. She took one look in the mirror and screamed.

* * *

Draco was sitting on his bed in a pair of sleep pants, pouring over some of the files he'd collected last night, when he heard the Gryffindor princess rouse. Fully intending to enjoy her sober embarrassment, he waited until her heard rustling in the bathroom before he snuck down the hall.

Sure enough, Hermione Granger stood in his bathroom, cradling her head over his sink. He leaned against the door frame, crossed his arms, and waited.

In the meantime, he couldn't help but notice that his shirt engulfed her slight frame and nearly brushed her knees. He couldn't decide if he was grateful for the coverage or not...after all, it was Granger. On the other hand, he wasn't dead.

His musings were cut short by a banshee like shriek.

* * *

In the mirror in front of her, Draco chuckled. Hermione whirled around, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Good morning to you, too," Draco offered, with a smirk. Hermione just spluttered.

"Gah - you can't - You!" was all she could manage. She stared at him for a moment longer before she remembered her state of undress and grabbed the blanket from the tiled floor. Even as she wrapped herself tightly, Draco could see the blush climbing up her neck and across her cheeks.

"Oh, calm down, Granger," he said from the doorway. "That shirt covers you just fine, I haven't seen a thing."

Hermione relaxed slightly at this. She let out a heavy sigh and turned back to the mirror to untangle the bird's nest crowning her head.

"I suppose I'm not the first witch to wear it, anyway," she said, still feeling huffy and ill at ease with this new, playful Malfoy.

Actually, she was, but Draco decided not to mention that. Draco didn't make a habit of letting witches wear his clothes. Despite his play-boy reputation, as a proper, pureblood wizard, Draco had been raised to carefully select the women he...brought home with him. It helped to quell later questions of illegitimate children.

Since the war, Draco had dated few witches, and slept with fewer. They were always women his mother selected, and then coerced him into meeting in hopes of someday getting grandchildren. Granger was the first witch to see the inside of his flat that hadn't gushed over the expensive furnishings, or thrown herself at him. He chuckled as he realized that Granger had conquered quite a few firsts last night.

Hermione, for her part, had decided to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. After all, she'd stayed plenty of nights at Ron's and Harry's. Hell, she'd slept in a tent with the two of them for months! No, this was no different...even if she'd never had this kind of difficulty ignoring Ron or Harry's bare chests.

She finally managed to pull her hair back into a bun, with the left over pins from Ginny's styling. She turned to Malfoy, who was still smirking at her. She was about to tell his pale arse to get out of the doorway, but the words died on her tongue.

"Draco, darling! Draco, are you up?"

Both pairs of eyes widened and Malfoy lunged into the room, shutting the door behind him with a quick snap. Hermione stood frozen, watching his face for an indication of who was in his living room, or what she should do. The other voice was quiet.

Draco was trying desperately to think of a way out of the situation, but the only thing playing in his head was a very unhelpful, sing-songy voice telling him he was in deep shit.

She was early. That much he knew. He also knew there was a blue gown strewn across his furniture that would be very difficult to explain. He was pretty sure that Granger's wand was still in his living room, meaning that short of crouching in the shower, there was little she could do to stay hidden. As if that wasn't enough, she was practically naked! He hadn't even thought to put a shirt on before coming out to harass her.

No one would believe she had simply spent an innocent night on the couch, especially not the woman standing in his living room.

"What should I do?" Hermione asked in a breathless whisper.

From the look on his face, Malfoy did not want to be caught with her, half dressed, in his bathroom, looking for all the world like they'd shagged. Being the noble witch she was, she felt incredibly guilty - he'd helped her out, and now she'd probably ruined his relationship! Of course she hadn't known he had a girlfriend, and she'd just slept on his couch, but she knew the likelihood that any woman would listen long enough to hear any of that.

"I don't know," Draco moaned quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He only had one idea, and he was pretty sure it was a very bad one. Even still...it was his only plan.

"Look, Malfoy, you helped me out. I owe you. Just tell me how to help," Granger said in quiet voice full of determination.

Draco sighed.

"You're going to regret that."

"Draco? Am I interrupting something?" The voice called, much closer this time. She sounded cold and suspicious. Draco knew she was only moments away from their door.

"Who is it, anyway? I didn't even know you were dating anyone."

Resigning himself to his very bad idea, Draco opened his eyes with snort.

"Granger, it's not my _girlfriend_ out there - it's my mother."

* * *

AN: I know it's quite a bit shorter than last chapter, but this was just too good place to leave off! As always, let me know what you think – the good, the bad, and the ugly! Hope everyone had lovely holidays, and to be speaking to you again soon.

Cheers!


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